


remember, together

by eldureira



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Characters Dealing with Some PTSD I Guess, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Gen, M/M, POV Multiple, Post-Canon, Post-Dark Continent Arc, Team as Family
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 06:01:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,709
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27299896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eldureira/pseuds/eldureira
Summary: [Main Four's POV]Four years after the events on Black Whale, The Main Four + Alluka are now living in the same house together, as a family. Each one is battling scars that past experiences have left, but they are healing. They are remembering everything, but they are learning. Together.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck, Kurapika/Leorio Paladiknight
Comments: 12
Kudos: 88





	remember, together

**Author's Note:**

> I originally had a fluff idea about the main 4 + Alluka coming home to their new house together, but as I wrote it ended up being an angst story. So sorry about that. Also I apologize if I made some too-wild interpretations about the characters' psych. I guess I just wanted to give them an ending that's bittersweet but still hopeful, showing that they are all dealing with each of their own traumas but still finding solace in each other, promising to stick together and come home to one another, living their lives one day at a time.
> 
> I was inspired by some of the songs I regularly listen to:  
> \- Our House by Ed Patrick  
> \- Grow As We Go by Ben Platt  
> \- This is Why I Need You by Jesse Ruben  
> \- Recuerda by Penny & Sparrow
> 
> To anyone reading, I hope you'll enjoy!

**1\. Leorio**

Leorio couldn’t find Gon and Killua anywhere.

He’d looked in Gon’s bedroom, in Killua’s bedroom, and in Alluka’s. He’d gone to the kitchen, the dining room, the living room, even dubiously checked the bathroom. They weren’t there. No note on the refrigerator door either, as per their agreement. _Did they go to town this early in the morning? Did they suddenly get an urgent assignment?_ Leorio couldn’t help but worry. Those two boys, especially Gon, had a reputation for being reckless, even though he knew they had both changed. Somewhere down the line, their friendship had evolved into something different; not quite the wide-eyed, golden camaraderie it had been during the Yorknew days, where they had looked at each other sometimes like a stranded person standing in front of a desert mirage, not quite believing it was real, but still ready to cleave their heart in two for the mere possibility that it was. It was no less sincere, no less beautiful and selfless and _total,_ it was just more… independent, somehow. Less devotional. They’d even been taking different jobs and assignments now, so they weren’t together all the time, but Leorio had seen them finding their way back to each other before very long, every single time. They were each their own person now, with the other as their anchor. It was a good thing, he supposed, them growing up and finding what they truly wanted in life as an individual, but it still made him feel bittersweetly nostalgic sometimes.

Leorio had the general idea of what, exactly, had happened to them that brought about this change, but had never tried broaching the subject with either Gon or Killua. _After all, they’ve solved it between themselves. I don’t have the right to pry, especially since I wasn’t there with them._

He paced through the hallways, nursing his coffee in hand, dodging several moving boxes that still littered the space. It was their first weekend in the new house, and each one of them had been so busy with their own work they’d had no chance to sort out their things. Leorio had had to do _two_ open-heart surgeries this week, pulling an all-nighter in one of them, and yet he found himself unable to relax even on his day off. Anxious thoughts flitted in his head one after another, seemingly not caring about the fact that he _knew_ Gon and Killua’s strength and advantages in battle, even without Nen. _What if they’ve been kidnapped in their sleep? Did intruders come to this house and hurt them and I slept through it all? Did I fail, again, in saving people I care about?_

Leorio knew he didn’t use to be this anxious. It had been four years since he got off _that accursed death fish_ , but he sometimes still got randomly woken up in the night by memories turned nightmares. The things he’d done, the things he’d seen. _I don’t wanna think about that now_ , Leorio thought, closing his eyes. He gripped his coffee cup tighter, grounding himself in the feel of the ceramic, in the chip near the base he’d created when he’d dropped it during a particularly grueling study session during his university days. _Don’t think. You’re fine. They’re fine. Probably just checking out the Saturday market. They’ll be back before you know it._

“You’ll wear the floorboards thin if you keep pacing like that.”

Leorio turned to find Kurapika walking across the hallways, in the direction of the dining table. He watched him move gracefully along the counter, opening cupboards, reaching for a bowl and the cereal carton. “Gon and Killua are picking up Alluka at the train station.”

“She’s coming home? I thought she’s staying at Bisky’s. When did they tell you?”

“This morning. Before you woke up.” Kurapika paused, pouring milk over his cereal. “They said Bisky just allowed her to come home for the weekend last night. She’ll resume training on Monday.”

“Oh, good.” Leorio sighed, feeling like a weight had been lifted off his shoulders. “Those damn brats better come back soon, though. We have to straighten out this place and settle our stuff today. I don’t want to have to come home past midnight only to stub my toe on these godforsaken boxes anymore next week.”

“You only have your own carelessness to blame for that, Leorio,” said Kurapika, gesturing to him with his spoon. “That and your miles-long limbs.”

“Ha! Just say you envy me for having legs for days, you shortie.” Leorio snorted as he moved to join Kurapika at the dining table. “I can be a model if I want to, you know.”

Kurapika rolled his eyes. “For a Magical Beast preservation ad, probably.”

“I will make a _gorgeous_ Magical Beast, Kurapika, I’ll have you know,” Leorio answered. He turned his back to open the refrigerator door. “I’m going to make some scrambled eggs. You want some?”

“Sure, thank you,” Kurapika said, and he could hear a smile in his voice, no matter how ridiculous that sounds. He still remembered the night Kurapika showed up on his apartment door a year ago, out of the blue, after so many unanswered calls and texts and just a handful of fractured lunches where Kurapika had always found reasons to cut short, asking him if he could stay. Leorio had been unable to believe his ears, but he’d always been a man who acts first and asks questions later. He’d opened the door and prepared the guest room, and there Kurapika had stayed until recently, when they'd decided to move to the suburbs and buy a house with Gon, Killua, and Alluka. A place they can all go back to, no matter how far or how long they’d have to travel. After all, they’ll each have their own adventures, but it’s always nice to know that when they come home, they can count on someone being there to welcome them back. Their interests had been aligned, so they had gone on house-hunting and purchased this five-bedroom modern farmhouse with a wraparound porch just on the outskirts of town. It had immediately felt like home, bright and airy with the sunshine illuminating the windows, making them look stained and colored, almost holy. The same sunshine that was filtering in through the kitchen windows now, lighting up Kurapika’s hair like a halo.

Leorio turned off the stove and put the eggs on a round plate. He still didn’t know Kurapika’s reasons for coming to him that night, why it had felt like his bristles and thorns were almost gone, replaced by a dullness, a certain emptiness that was almost like a surrender. It hadn’t made sense to him then, because Kurapika didn’t _surrender,_ not to anyone. During the early days of his stay, he had felt like a yawning void to him, a black hole that threatened to overtake anything and anyone in his path, and Leorio had vowed to himself that he would _stitch_ him back together, even if he had to give up everything he had and then more, because he would very well be _damned_ before he’d let another important person waste away when now he finally, _finally,_ had everything in his disposal to save him.

Leorio carried his breakfast to the table, putting down Kurapika’s plate as he passed him. _At least now he’s eating regularly,_ Leorio thought. Eating, and sleeping, even though sometimes he was still up at the crack of dawn. He’d used to chide him for pushing his food around, for forgetting to eat, but now Kurapika sometimes took a second helping casually, like it was no big deal. _Small steps, small victories,_ Leorio thought. _We could be fighting this battle for the rest of our lives and I know I wouldn’t mind it one bit._

Just then, there was a sound of a key being turned in the lock, and in the next instant three teenagers burst into the entryway in a whirl of color and sound.

“We’re home!”

“Alluka’s home!”

“Hey, pops, are those eggs I’m smelling? You’d better have enough for us too!”

Leorio and Kurapika exchanged glances that were both fond and exasperated. 

“I made plenty! Come here and help me finish this!”

**2\. Gon**

Gon almost felt like he was back at his childhood home in Whale Island.

It was a lot wilder and noisier here, for sure, as he now had four other people living with him where before he’d only had two. But Gon didn’t mind. He loved waking up to Killua play-wrestling him to the floor, loved racing him to the bathroom because Killua, probably deliberately, always took _so long_ there. He loved listening to Alluka sing nursery rhymes in the garden as they water the plants together, her voice soft and cheery but somehow just a little sad, bringing to his mind the normal childhood she’d been robbed of, the outside world she’d been deprived of for so long. He loved watching Leorio and Kurapika bicker with each other no matter the time of day, although this time around, there was a different kind of softness underlying their antics. Gon supposed something must have happened between them aboard the Black Whale, something that had brought them closer and had them relying on each other now even more than before. Something that resulted in Leorio brushing his hand down Kurapika’s back whenever they passed each other, something that caused Kurapika looking at Leorio first whenever someone told a joke, as if to make sure that Leorio was laughing. Gon was happy for them, happy that two of his favorite people in the world had found solace in each other.

Leorio was a little like Mito, he often thought. He had her gentleness and warmth, even when he was being his usual brash and impulsive self. And Kurapika reminded him of Abe, sometimes, when he was being steady and reasonable, a brake to Leorio’s explosive tendencies. 

He especially loved living with Killua, and loved the fact that he kept finding new sides of his best friend. He loved their baking sessions of cakes and pies and all other different kinds of sweets, Killua always stealing licks from the batter. He loved seeing Alluka always come alive at the sight of Killua, and he _absolutely_ loved the way Killua softens around his little sister, almost all his hard edges gone he could swear Killua simply _shines,_ with all those trust and love flowing more freely in.

He loved it here. He loved them. 

They were unpacking their stuff from the cardboard boxes, cleaning and settling them down into proper places. Gon was in charge of miscellaneous little trinkets; decorative ashtrays, desk clocks, some candles, and framed photographs. He was putting a small bag of key chains inside a drawer when he realized that the next item he’d picked up from the box was a photograph he knew really well, _too_ well. It was the picture of himself, posing with Killua and Alluka near the entrance to the World Tree, the day they’d decided to temporarily part ways and do their own thing for a while, Killua to travel the world with Alluka and Gon to meet Ging. The day they’d decided to _separate._ Gon remembered a myriad of different feelings he’d felt that day, feelings he wasn’t sure he’d fully understood. It had felt so _final,_ Killua leaving, but also full of uncertainties and open questions. He’d sounded so sure that they’d keep in touch, but he’d also been roiling in fear and doubt that Killua would forget him, that there was something else he hadn’t been ready to forgive him yet, that their communication would taper away and whatever bond they had would go spiraling down, and down, and _down._ Killua was his best friend in the world, the first real friend he’d ever had, and yet their bond went deeper than the word _friendship_ could ever encompass. 

Gon gave a little sigh, remembering the lonely days at Whale Island that followed after they’d parted. The days spent exploring the island he already knew like the back of his hand, wandering every nook and cranny alone, his beetle phone never far from his grasp. Feeling his heart jump every time Killua’s or Leorio’s name appeared on the screen, the jump more like a _soar_ when it had been Killua’s. And how happy he’d been when Killua came back, not that long ago, his silver hair brilliant in the sunlight, waving from a ship until it docked, Gon running beside the ship until it dropped anchor. 

And they’d talked. And they’d gone on adventures, and talked some more. And they’d made up, and gotten everything out in the open, but it doesn’t mean they’d arrived unscathed. They’d both changed, and grown up, and probably, just probably, they understood themselves a little better now. 

“Hey, Gon, can you pass me that box behind you?”

“Hey, Gon!”

“GON!”

Killua yelled so hard Gon felt his ears ring. “Aw, Killuaaa, what are you yelling at me for?”

“I called you normally a few times already, you idiot. I asked you to pass me that box behind you.” Killua huffed, reaching for the box himself. “Never mind that now since I already walked all the way here. What are you so focused on cleaning that your dog hearing malfunctioned, huh?”

“I was just looking at this picture. Bittersweet day, huh? I was so happy I got to meet Alluka and spend the day with you two, but then we didn’t see each other for years afterward.”

“We saw each other almost every other week via video call, Gon,” Killua answered, his voice low and cautious. Gon realized his mistake too late, as he saw the shadow darkening Killua’s face, the same one that came every time _the separation_ was brought about. He could almost _feel_ the fences coming down and shuttering his expression, making it look guarded and older and almost haunted. Gon knew he’d been the one who put the ghosts there, and it hurt him every single time he saw them come out to play, but he welcomed the hurt. He cherished it like an old friend, let it age with him like fine wine. It was something that reminded him, every day, to never take Killua’s trust for granted, to always strive to be a better friend for him, that this was his second chance that he would treat as though it was his last.

“Yeah, but it wasn’t enough,” Gon said, his voice sounding a little like a whine, although he tried to school his expression neutral. 

“Well, I’m here now, aren’t I?” Killua looked away, feeling the comings of a blush. “I’m gonna go help Alluka with the tablecloths now.” He began to walk, carrying the cardboard box filled to the brim with tablecloths and throw pillows and hand towels, but Gon’s loud, bright voice made him stop dead in his tracks.

“I love you, Killua! You’re my best friend in the entire world! Every day I’m so grateful that we get to live together now, all five of us!”

"GON YOU IDIOT YOU’RE EM—”

“I’m going to embarrass you every single day, Killua, so you’d better get used to it!”

“Ugh, fine! Fine! Whatever you say!” Killua walked away from Gon with the tips of his ears crimson, huffing and pouting all the while. Gon felt a strange urge to giggle. It would take a long time, probably as long as they both shall live, for Killua to be able to embrace affection with open arms, but Gon promised himself he would stay and embarrass him through it all. He would never shut him out again, would never hurt him by hurting himself again. He would learn to let Killua _see_ him, all of him, even when he was feeling weak, _especially_ when he was feeling weak, because Killua would want to be there for him, to be his strength, because Killua was what made him stronger. He would make sure that Killua never had to doubt how much he meant to him, so that he would never feel the need to leave, not again, not anymore.

After all, they both probably still had some more changing to do, but this time, they would change right next to each other. 

**3\. Killua**

Nothing as beautiful as this should have been happening to Killua.

Or, at least, that was what Killua himself thought. 

It was just after dinner, and the five of them were together in the living room, the moving boxes all unpacked. Gon was playing a mobile game on the armchair, the _dings_ and _pings_ of it strangely calming. Leorio was sitting cross-legged on the sofa, braiding Alluka’s hair and humming to himself. Kurapika was reading a book next to them, completely immersed in his own world. The scene was so normal, so peacefully _mundane,_ so much like a family he’d only mostly read about, a family he’d never known, that he was afraid it was only a dream that would shatter in the next instant. It had only been less than a week since they'd all moved here, and Killua still had to remind himself sometimes that he didn’t have to be on his guard all the time, that no one would jump him from behind the shadows or unknowingly poison his dinner to _increase his tolerance,_ that among the four of them, no one would coax or cajole him to take _just a little more, Kil, you’re good with pain, aren’t you, this is what you were born for_ _—_

“Waah, I look so pretty, Leorio! Thank you! _Oniichan_ , look at me!”

Alluka bounded to him, holding a hand mirror, showing off her new hairstyle to everyone who would listen. She did look pretty, her inky black hair neatly braided and pulled into a low bun, with a few loose strands framing her face. “You look very nice, Alluka. Hey, Leorio, if being a doctor doesn’t work out, you should become a hairdresser.”

“Do I look pretty too, Killua?”

“Of course.” Killua reached out and patted her head, earning happy sighs from Nanika, whose black, bottomless eyes had narrowed to slits from smiling.

“Where did you learn to do hair, anyway?” Kurapika interjected, seemingly unconcerned, his eyes not leaving the pages of his book, but Killua knew he’d been paying attention.

“I learned when I was doing my internship at the hospital,” Leorio answered, gazing proudly at Alluka and his handiwork. “When I was at the pediatric stage, there was this one girl who had a terminal illness, and it already progressed so bad she usually had very little energy throughout the day. And when I came for my regular morning visit, she would ask me to comb and do her hair. I didn’t know how, at first, but she talked me through it. It became our regular thing after that, and I got used to experimenting different kinds of styles. Before she died, she told me it was always the highlight of her day, that it was something that she looked forward to, something that woke her up in the morning.”

Kurapika’s eyes had left her book and were now focused on Leorio, who wore a faraway look, as though he could still see himself in that hospital room. “After that, sometimes I did it to other patients too. Braiding their hair when another doctor or nurse were giving them a shot or placing an IV to take their mind off the needles, or promising to do their hair as a reward after a surgery. It became like a signature of mine.” He laughed fondly. “Why did you ask, Kurapika? You want me to do your hair too?” As he said it, Leorio reached out to tangle his hand in Kurapika’s hair, casually, almost absent-mindedly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. He continued to stroke it, playing with it, wrapping some strands around his fingers and gently releasing them, again and again and again, seeming so, so entranced, Killua thought, like he was touching solid sunshine. But what baffled Killua the most was that Kurapika was _letting_ him, with not so much as a sarcastic quip, although he _had_ tensed up a few moments earlier, seemingly undecided about this strangely intimate act, as though it was something both foreign and curious he couldn’t decide if he should move away, or move closer. 

And then _something_ happened, something that was there and then gone so fast Killua couldn’t help questioning afterward if he’d really seen it, or had it only been a trick of the eye? Because he had seen Kurapika made an expression he’d never thought it was possible for him to make, not after what he’d been through, not after all this time, not after all the rage and the blood and the heavy retribution and the breaking, and the killing, and the ruining— not necessarily of other people— and yet Killua knew he hadn’t imagined it. Kurapika had been wearing an expression so tender it was breaking and warming his heart at the same time. It had been reflected in the sudden light of his eyes, in the ghost of his smile, in the relaxing of his usually tight, tight shoulders. He’d shifted his focus back to his book now— Killua hadn’t heard his answer to Leorio’s question— but Killua could see Kurapika’s defenses melt, little by little, taken and collected by Leorio’s patient, steady hands. He’d been trained to see this, to gauge the moment an opponent’s defense starts to crumble, to take note of the holes and chinks in their armor and seize the opening to attack, to destroy, to _kill_ and get the job done. And the same exact thing was happening before his very eyes, only Leorio didn’t utilize those tiny, tiny openings to strike, but to heal. Not to hurt, but to repair. Not to end, but to begin.

Killua felt heat behind his eyes. Before he knew it, he’d bolted out of the room, mumbling excuses of going to the bathroom, and then he just walked and walked and walked.

* * *

He ended up on the balcony, looking at the rows of neighboring houses. He could see lights behind a few windows, some shadows passing behind the curtains. Maybe the father was washing the dishes, the mother wiping the table, the children playing with their toys. Just ordinary people, living perfectly ordinary lives. They felt so close, and yet so far.

Killua closed his eyes, trying to make sense of his feelings. His heart had felt incredibly full, almost to bursting, when he’d seen what had just happened between his two friends. He realized now that it had been _hope,_ a hope so clear and bright it was hurting his eyes. A hope that they can begin again, that there is always a way to forgive and be forgiven, that a person can spend so many years in hell and still be welcomed back by a taste of heaven. A hope that people can learn to trust again, that relationships can be rebuilt, that _people_ themselves can be rebuilt, despite so much hurt in the past, probably _because_ they’ve hurt and been hurt. And that it’s okay to remember, because painful memories may never be entirely forgotten, but happier memories can be built and rebuilt on top of them for however many times they need.

“Killua, what are you doing here?”

When Killua opened his eyes, Gon was standing before him, his face a cheery confusion. Gon looked older now, he realized, his jaw squarer, his cheekbones sharper. Taller and more muscular too, no longer the small, elfish child he’d been when they’d first met. Sometimes it brought a kick to Killua’s heart, a sign that some things he’d rather forget were about to bob to the surface of his mind. Sometimes when he looked at Gon standing at a wrong angle in front of Alluka, it looked like he had long hair — and then he would find himself back in that forest, flashbacks of blue blood, mangled limbs, and bright orange light making his breaths ragged and twisting his stomach he had to double over to keep everything in. Fear of losing Gon, fear of losing himself, _if Gon dies then I’ll have nothing else to live for, why don’t you let me save you, why did you push me away, why am I never useful to you, why can’t I be your light just like you’ve always been mine_ —

“Hello, Killua? Killua!” 

“Yes, Gon, no need to shout. I’m right here,” Killua answered sullenly, having been broken from his reverie. “I was just looking at…” Searching for an excuse, Killua looked around himself, at their still-bare front garden, and up at the sky. “...the moon. Looks like it’s a full moon tonight.”

“Hm? That’s not a full moon yet, Killua. We should give it a few more days to grow. And then it will be even brighter than tonight, the brightest it can possibly be.”

“Right, I guess you would know. But then it will revert again to a new moon, right? Which is basically almost nothing.”

“Yeah. But just because we can’t see it with the naked eye, doesn’t mean it’s not there. And it will keep coming back to being full, when it’s time.” His voice had taken an uncharacteristically mournful quality, like he was speaking about the moon as a metaphor. Like he was addressing the moon itself.

“I’ve always loved looking at the moon, you know,” Gon continued, resting his arms on the railing. “Back at Whale Island, there’s this hill where if you climb it to the very top, you can see the moon really clearly, so big it’s like a huge ball you can almost kick. I used to stay there and watch it rise from the horizon. It’s really, really beautiful on full moon nights. I bet its light has helped many people find their way home.”

“You think so?”

“I know so. I’ve relied on its light myself, countless times in the past after I stayed out too late. People say the moon is useless because it doesn’t have its own light and it only reflects the sunlight, but I don’t think so, not really. Even if the light is not its own now, doesn’t mean it can’t produce one later. And it doesn’t mean that it’s useless, because it always shines with everything it’s got. It shines for its own, for the sake of shining. And people are bound to notice, and benefit from it.”

Gon’s answer reverberated so hard inside Killua’s chest he had to look away. It was just so _Gon_ , so incredibly optimistic it defied all logic, so unbearably positive it challenged everything Killua had ever known, and yet he found himself agreeing with him. He realized he wanted to be like that moon, always with the hope of becoming fuller and fuller, despite being reduced to nothing by its own self over and over again. He knew the day would come when he would finally feel _whole_ and tame the demons in his head, when he would look at Gon and not immediately fear losing him, but he was healing and growing now, and so was Gon, so was everybody else, and it was all that mattered. He would start shining with everything he’s got now, for the sake of shining, for _himself,_ even if he couldn’t shine for Gon yet. And he couldn’t care less whether or not that light was his own or Gon’s light being reflected through him. He felt honored either way. “I hope I can be your moon someday, Gon.”

Gon knit his eyebrows, looking genuinely confused. “What do you mean, ‘someday’? You already are, Killua. And you’re also my sun, and my stars, and my ocean, and my mountain. You’ve helped me find my way in the dark for as long as I can remember, and I hope you’ll continue to do so. And I’ll do the same to you, I promise. Because you’re my best friend in the whole world and I love you!” He beamed at Killua, his tone so forthright and honest it wasn’t hard to see that he actually believed it, like it was a scientific fact, like it was something as true as the oxygen they breathe.

Looking at Gon’s profile bathed in moonlight, Killua made a sound that was both a laugh and a sigh. A dawning realization, a surrender, and an acknowledgement of something he thought he’d always known. A truth so boundless and natural it had survived death and distance and broken dreams and it would continue to survive a thousand other things more. And no matter how _boiling_ his face felt right now, he decided he would say it back, this time. Even though it might come out sounding off-key and unpracticed.

“I know, Gon. I love you too.”

**4\. Kurapika**

The one thing Kurapika fears the most was happening.

 _Had_ been happening, in fact, for quite some time now. But the strangest thing about it all was that Kurapika had been finding himself smiling more and more often these days. 

It had come as a surprise to him, the first time he felt himself _really_ smile after the rest of the eyes had been buried, a reflex so unprompted it had startled even himself that his muscles could still remember how to do the act. He had been at Leorio’s, on a clear Sunday morning, listening to him read aloud an email from Gon, detailing his latest adventures with Killua. Leorio’s voice had been gentle with fondness for the sender, sometimes interjecting his own reading with a few violent comments about the boys’ less-than-cautious tendencies, and the next thing Kurapika knew, he’d been smiling. He’d dismissed it as being plainly nostalgic for their Hunter Exam days, when everything had been simpler, but then he’d kept smiling, over common, everyday occurrences. A small snort over Leorio tripping, a fond smile over an old picture of the four of them he’d found on Leorio’s bookshelf, an all-out laugh when their upstairs neighbor accidentally spilled laundry water on Leorio while they were passing under her balcony. Little by little, the hole inside his heart was being filled. It didn’t feel so big now, this huge crater, created when there had been nothing but rage and guilt and the thirst for revenge eroding any chance of happiness he’d felt he deserved. 

He’d thought that hole would have been filled by going on a killing spree against the Spiders, by getting back his brethren’s eyes and giving them a proper burial, but he’d been left an even emptier husk than before he’d started this journey to hell. His heart had been like a thousand armies with no one to fight, an endless winter with no promise of warmth. He’d considered wiping off the rest of the Phantom Troupe, but he’d found that he just couldn’t muster the energy, no matter how hard he’d tried to rekindle that fiery wrath. He was hollow, an incandescent light bulb without wiring, a log with its insides removed.

 _Death wasn’t the answer._ But he hadn’t understood what was.

Until he’d started answering his friends’ calls. Leorio’s, and Gon’s, sometimes Killua’s. A particular phone conversation with Gon, when he’d told him that _No, it wasn’t worth it, it never has been and will never be worth it._ A few lunches, a few visits, at the ends of which he’d always been left wondering if now was the time for him to start another quest, a new one which he could use to answer Pairo’s question with a _Yes, it was fun._

* * *

Kurapika found it easier to drift off, these days. His mind was quieter, showing himself friendlier memories just before sleep claimed him. Mostly about his friends. Mostly about Leorio.

Leorio calling him, reminding him to eat, and sleep, and _for God’s sake, Kurapika, just take basic care of yourself._ Never stopping, never giving up, _why did he never give up_ —

Leorio chasing him to the underground world after Melody _let slip_ that he’d collapsed on the job, again. _Bursting_ into the Nostrade base, all six-foot-four of gangly limbs in a navy suit, demanding to see the boss or _so help me God, I will tear this place down._

Leorio offering him a place to stay so someone can _keep an eye on you, Kurapika, because God knows someone has to._

Gon’s voice, telling him that _rage wasn’t the answer, Kurapika, neither was revenge. I didn’t fix anything, I didn’t redeem anything, I just ended up ruining more important things, the most important things to me_ —

Leorio’s silly little glasses, gleaming under the summer sun, as he was telling him that _you still have me, Gon, and Killua. We’ve kept you safe, haven’t we, from being overpowered by hate. And we will continue to help you. You still have something left, you idiot, you still have us. You’ve buried the eyes. Now you can let them rest. And you can choose to let go now, Kurapika, come on, you can come home now._

And Kurapika knew that he hadn't meant Lukso Province.

After that, he’d forced himself to take a step in a new direction.

_Death wasn't the answer. Life is._

* * *

“Kurapika, what is it? What’s the matter? Are you okay? _Talk to me, you little_ — “

Kurapika woke up with a start. He could swear he’d heard screaming, one that may or may not have been his own. It was dark and dizzying, and the world was scarlet and shaking, and he had blood drenching his arms and dirt under his fingernails, and the hole before him was full of eyes, eyes so red they were full of judgment. _You’ve gotten parts of us back, little boy, but at what cost? You have become an outside person now, full of prejudice and hate. You have turned your back on everything we stood for, and for what purpose, other than your own selfish reasons?_

“Kurapika, please come back. Come back to me. Please. _Look_ at me.”

_I’m so sorry, Elder. Father. Mother. Pairo. Everyone else. You wouldn’t have died if I hadn’t gone outside. You wouldn’t have died if only I’d been there to save you. I had to get your eyes back. I had to make your killers pay. I had to prove my worth to you. I had to avenge you. It was my fault. My fault. I had to redeem myself. I had to become this… this monster. I had to. I had to._

“Kurapika, _goddammit_ — ”

And then he was enveloped in something warm, something solid and gentle and _real._ He could feel firm arms encircling him, a shoulder under his chin, hands squeezing his hair, grasping and desperate. “Please, Kurapika, tell me what’s wrong, let me help you.” A choked whisper, and he was being clutched tighter, like the other person was trying to gather the pieces, doing whatever he could to put him back together. Kurapika gasped a breath, and the world’s colors started to come back, one fraction at a time. He put his hand on the other man’s arm. _It’s real. It’s here. He’s here._

“It’s okay, Leorio," he answered, voice thin and unsteady. "I was just having a nightmare. You didn’t need to come here.”

“A nightmare?” Leorio released his embrace. “I heard you screaming. I was afraid you were hurt, but when I got here, there was no one else in the room.” His eyes were earnest and worried. “Do you want to talk about it?”

The Kurapika from a year ago would have balked at the thought of sharing his nightmares with anyone. But Leorio had always had a way of dismantling his fortress, coaxing him to open, to show him his scars, and it had usually helped in replacing his anxieties with something else, something that almost felt like ease. And it had never, not once, put judgment in Leorio's eyes.

“I dreamed I was back in Lukso, burying the eyes,” Kurapika began, his voice low and uncertain. “But I had blood all over my arms, I was burying them with bloody hands, and the blood was dripping on them all. And the eyes spoke to me, telling me that… That I had gotten parts of them back, but at the cost of myself.” Kurapika could still feel that voice like a chill in the air, raising the hairs on his arms. “They told me I had become an outside person now, full of prejudice and hate, and the Kurta Clan was peaceful, and I… I’m not one of them anymore now. And they weren’t proud of me. They called me selfish. And the worst part of it was that they are right. I _was_ selfish. The revenge was selfish. I didn’t do it for them, I… I did it for… for myself. To make myself feel better. To hate myself less. To… to redeem myself. Because it was all my fault.” Once he began, everything came pouring out, everything he’d never told anyone, everything he didn’t even admit to himself. 

“No, Kurapika, it wasn’t your fault. There was nothing you could have done. If you’d been there, you would have been massacred along with your family.”

“Then I would have died alongside them!” Kurapika snapped, his eyes a pair of deep, bottomless lakes of sorrow. “I would rather I’d died alongside them. So I don’t have to be this… this irrational monster. So I don’t have to remember them and be reminded of everything I could have done differently. So I don’t have to maim and kill just so I can keep the pain at bay, but it always comes back. It always comes back.” He was wrapping his arms around his own torso, as though it might be enough to keep himself from breaking apart at the seams. “It always comes back, Leorio.”

“Then let it come back, Kurapika.” Leorio’s tone was melancholy. “Let it come back. It’s okay for it to come back. It’s okay for you to remember. Your family, and what happened to them, _deserve_ to be remembered.” He put his hands on Kurapika’s shoulders. “It’s okay. You don’t have to run from them. Everytime it feels too much, just come to me. We’ll remember them together, bear the pain together, until it becomes manageable again. Until we can be happy again. Until it’s time to remember again.” Leorio took one of Kurapika’s hands, the one with the chains, and he didn’t let go. The chains had appeared sometime during his nightmare and he didn’t know how, but it didn’t matter. Leorio was not afraid, not of him, never of him, chains or no chains. “I’ll never let you bear the pain alone, you hear? You’re not alone anymore now. You have me. And Gon, and Killua, and Alluka, and we will never let you disappear again, in any way. You’ve made a brave choice, for not going after the rest of the Spiders, for not continuing to chase your family’s ghosts. They can rest now. And they would want to see you happy. With your new family.” He squeezed Kurapika’s hand tighter, steadying the trembles, stealing the ice and replacing it with warmth.

“I know we’ll never replace the family you had, and we’ll never try to, but it doesn’t make us any less of a family to you. Please, Kurapika, give it a chance. Give _us_ a chance. Every day, please don’t give up on yourself, on us. Because we love you. And we will remember all our pain, together, and nurse all our wounds and look proudly at all our scars because they have all gotten us to where we are now. And yes, we’re not whole, and we’re not perfect, but we’re _together._ And you’ll use me as your crutch some days and I’ll need you to be my bandage on other days, but you know what? It’s okay. We’re here, we’re alive, and we’ll continue to live, one day at a time.”

It was a strange feeling, crying. It had always baffled Kurapika why when his heart feels so full with emotions, it sometimes decides to relieve itself by leaking the feelings out in the forms of water from out of his eyes. It had been a long time since he'd felt this full, of anger and pain and grief and uncertainties and yes, _love._ It filled him inside, and he felt like a twelve-year-old again, excited with all the possibilities that life outside could offer. He knew better now, that life had offered, and would continue to offer, all sorts of heartbreaks and fear and guilt and other messy emotions he couldn’t even name. _But my family would want me to live. Pairo will be waiting for me on the other side, for any fun stories I have to tell. And my new family is here with me now. I’m going to live. I’ll find a new goal. I’ll be worthy once again of the Kurta name._

“Do you hear me, Kurapika? Please don't say you would rather die, because it _fucking_ breaks me, okay? You're forever a part of us, and we'll never let you remember your pain alone, and I swear we’ll remember everything with you. And everything else that went wrong with Gon and Killua, too, we'll remember it together. Because they need us, they need _you,_ because you're also our strength. You're _my_ strength." Leorio's voice broke. "You’ll give us a chance, won’t you?” His next question was a plea, an orison.

Kurapika felt a smile coming. Strange, since he was in the middle of bawling his eyes out like a little toddler. But he guessed that was one of the bizarre effects Leorio seems to always have on him. And maybe the crying had been necessary. Maybe he'd needed the tears to wash away all the things that had occupied his heart up until now, all the self-hatred and the intense fury, the dark, twisted passion bordering on madness, and the stubborn denial of everything good that he hadn't thought he deserved, hadn't thought he could make space for. _But I think I can now._ _I think I can now._ “Yes,” he said. “I think I will.” 

He heard Leorio release a breath, as the weight of the decision enveloped them both like a newborn's swaddle. It was a new beginning, and it was one that Kurapika wanted to seize with everything he had, wanted to plunge into head first without overthinking every single fraction of it. It felt like a thousand years had passed since he'd last done anything without thinking at least three steps ahead of every possible outcome. He thought back to the moment he'd shown up on Leorio's door without so much as a lame excuse, after all the hurtful things he'd done to keep him and all his other friends at arm's length, only for the other man to let him in without question. He thought of Leorio's gentle smile, his loud, boisterous laugh, his open, honest face that could never disguise anything he felt. He didn't even realize when his thoughts of _You're too good for me, why are you so good to me, I don't deserve you, you deserve someone who's unbroken and whole who could love you just as openly_ had turned into _I want to be good to you too if you'd let me, I want to make you happy, so happy, dancing-on-air happy, I want to stay with you for however many years my sorry existence had left, if you'd have me._ It wasn't about him anymore. It was about Leorio, and how Kurapika suddenly couldn't get enough of being with him. Well, not suddenly. The feeling had been there all this time, maybe as far back as the Hunter Exam, a lonely candle who'd used to be mostly forgotten but had never stopped burning, a candle that was now a raging forest fire, no longer able to be ignored.

He took hold of a corner of Leorio’s sleeve, smoothing and wrinkling it, thumbing it like beads of a prayer. “Leorio,” he said. “Will you, please, stay with me tonight?”

Leorio stared at him, reading him, his eyes like a punch of light illuminating every corner of his soul. Kurapika wanted to feel something real, something alive, something, no, _someone,_ who chooses to be with him despite the trail of death and destruction he’d left in his wake. Someone who would _not_ be another body in that trail, someone he would protect with his life, someone he would fight for. Not as another haunting goal for him to live for, but as a real presence to live _with,_ a future to strive for, a home to return to.

Leorio’s smile was lopsided but no less genuine, gentle and reassuring as the promise of spring. His hand cradled Kurapika’s cheek, becoming one with his tears, making them invisible. His voice was soft when he answered, “I thought you’d never ask, sunshine.”

* * *

Later, listening to Leorio’s steady, rhythmic breathing beside him, Kurapika’s mind replayed what had just happened. And he knew he’d arrived at a satisfying conclusion.

Life here wasn’t perfect, and neither were himself, neither were Leorio, Gon, Killua, nor Alluka. Each of them was not entirely free, not entirely unbroken, not entirely whole. But they all accepted him, and loved him, chains and all, without question. Without judgment. 

And he loved them too. Enough to forgive himself, probably, someday. Enough to _choose_ them, over and over again. Over his fleeing rage and his crumbling redemption, over the little voice in the back of his mind telling him that he didn’t belong, over the fear that kept foretelling him of the day he comes home only to find them all dead. He would choose them, over all the risks and over his own inadequacies. Because it would be worth it, _they_ would be worth it. 

Because they were his new family. And this time around, things would be different. 

_Please, God, let this one be different._

  
  



End file.
